


She's Wonderful

by skinklegs



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:57:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5844250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinklegs/pseuds/skinklegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to Alya, Marinette discovers a new tidbit about Adrien. While initially troubled by this new information, good things eventually come to lucky bugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Wonderful

At first she was mortified. For a long while after, she was mortified. Lying in her bed that night, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, she could still hear her pulse thrumming in her ears. As she lie there motionless, she could think only of how silly it was that she never considered it before. Ridiculous, even.

She often caught her name whispered amongst her classmates, exchanged in hushed tones over school lunches and library books. All of France knew of her. It seemed as if everyone in Paris had a story to tell. Of course, it was not Marinette they were talking about. So she had learned to tune it out. Out of costume, the word “ladybug” was still just a word to her; not a name, and it no longer grabbed her attention the way it had months before.

She took no notice when her classmates talked about her, and she supposed that was why it never occurred to her that there was one person who never did so.

It was Alya that posed the question, of course, in an attempt to make small talk.

“What do you think of Ladybug?” she asked, thumbing her phone.

“Ladybug?” Adrien repeated, surprised.

Only when she heard that word on unfamiliar lips did she realize the gravity of the situation.

A smile lit up his face. “I think she’s wonderful,” he continued after a beat.

The two of them chattered away for a small eternity. Alya was thrilled, enthusiastically agreeing with everything he had to say. And there sat Marinette, heated blood drumming through her, focusing far too intensely on her shoes.

From that point, she began to slip. It was difficult enough to perform basic tasks (for example, talking) when she felt that Adrien was watching her. Leaping over rooftops? Out-maneuvering akuma? Spotting pitfalls in the most convoluted of supervillain designs? Out of the question. It was absurd, she thought, but Ladybug had never felt more like Marinette.

Weeks passed before she found any merit in her discovery.

While she was at home for lunch, her mother noticed her classmates being shuffled outside. She would come to find out that an akuma was in the process of tearing apart the school library, left unchecked while she was away. After being briefed on the situation by the nearest teacher, she turned to reassure the group of students standing behind her. Alya had pushed her way to the front, trusty phone aimed at Ladybug. Peering over her shoulder was Nino, and next to him was a wide-eyed Adrien Agreste.

A quiet gasp stuttered past his parted lips when her gaze fell on him. For a moment—or perhaps a bit longer—the two of them stood suspended, neither daring to breathe. It was Alya’s excited giggling that pulled her back down to earth. Embarrassed, she tore her gaze away and, after a quick sweeping glance over the crowd in front of her, hurried into the school.

Neither she nor Chat Noir (who arrived shortly thereafter) were at their peak performance. For whatever reason he, too, seemed distracted. Nevertheless, with their teamwork the threat was quickly subdued. The sooner the better, she thought. Even before her earrings had begun to beep, she was out through the nearest window.

She hoped to look for Adrien, but when she returned with the good news he was nowhere to be found.

Night soon fell over Paris and once again she found herself lying in bed, unable to sleep. Memories of that afternoon danced about in her head: The mesmerized look in Adrien’s eyes; the breeze toying with his hair as the rest of him stood stock still, save for the little twitch of his lip when he gasped. In the quiet of her bedroom she could still hear that soft intake of breath. It made something in her chest quiver and sputter, sending giggles bubbling up into her throat. She rolled onto her belly and pressed her face into her pillow to stifle her giddy laughter. Beside her, Tikki joined in.

The next time they met, it was not entirely an accident.

Adrien seemed down that day. Something about his father, she learned. (Alya’s blossoming relationship with Nino provided an excellent source of information.) Upon recalling the sparkle in his eyes the day he met Ladybug, she knew precisely what needed to be done.

She told Chat she would meet him in their usual spot at 8 PM to begin patrol. It was now 7 PM, and Ladybug had already taken to the rooftops. Just a quick peek, she told herself. Chances were nothing would come of it. But as she approached the Agreste residence, she could clearly see a light on upstairs. It shone through the sprawling wall of glass she knew was part of Adrien’s bedroom. She paused. She had seen into his room before while on patrol, but never when he was inside. Taking cover behind a chimney, she peered cautiously into the mansion.

There he sat on his sofa, legs crossed. The television spat a dim, flickering glow on him. He seemed to be absorbed in whatever he was watching, and that gave her confidence enough to venture out from her hiding place. For a moment all she could do was stand there, watching him and gnawing the inside of her lip.

Her plan consisted of two parts: First, by pure chance, Ladybug would find herself across from the Agreste mansion; second, she would cheer up Adrien! It occurred to her only now that there was a gaping chasm between point A and point B. How was she going to get his attention? What was she going to do once she had it? From there, all the flaws in her plan came trickling down upon her. Creeping around on the rooftops opposite his bedroom? What was she thinking? Of course he wasn’t going to be happy to see her! What a weird thing to do! Thinking better of it all, she stepped sharply backward and reached for her yoyo.

Adrien looked up from his television. Ladybug froze. Focus unwavering, she thought she saw his eyes widen. Embarrassment surged in her chest; she had been seen! She swallowed past the lump in her throat and grabbed her yoyo with trembling fingers, about to turn and run when Adrien did something she had never anticipated: He waved to her. It was not a shy, polite wave, the likes of which had been given to Marinette on a few occasions; it was energetic enough to sway his whole body.

Ladybug released her yoyo. The searing heat in her chest receded in the wake of something light and airy; something that fluttered and danced within her like dozens of tiny butterflies. It occurred to her first that her cheeks ached, and second that she was grinning ear to ear. She waved back to him, matching every ounce of his enthusiasm. As she did, he leaped up from the couch, bounding past the coffee table and up to the wall of glass that separated them. He pressed his hands to the supports and beamed at her.

While her confidence had recovered impressively from its fall, it was still a bit shaken, and the butterflies were not helping her think straight. So she did the only thing she could think to do: She kissed her fingertips and blew.

Adrien’s mouth popped open, and that was the last thing she saw before swinging away.

That was how it started. As the weeks went by, Ladybug found herself more and more often outside Adrien’s window. At first she dared not venture closer than the buildings across the street, but eventually she found it in her to zip past his bedroom and onto the roof. From there she dropped, upside-down, until her nose was a hair’s breadth from the glass. Adrien sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at her in equal parts bemusement and wonder. At some point the book he had been reading fell into his lap; she knew this because his hands were still poised as if holding something. He quickly tossed it aside and jumped to his feet, dashing to meet her at the window.

He opened it and invited her inside. How could she say no to that face?

For a long time they sat together on his sofa, talking excitedly in hushed voices. He told her how much he admired her, and she said the same for him. He asked her what it was like to see Paris from the rooftops, and to swing from the Eiffel Tower. How exactly did she purify an akuma? Just how many different functions did her yoyo have? How did Lucky Charm work?

“Oh, really?" he asked after listening to her explanation. “What’s the weirdest thing it’s ever given you?"

Once, he even asked her about Chat Noir. A few times she tried to get him to talk about his career, but he always seemed to steer the subject back to her.

As they talked, he scooted closer to her. It was subtle: Always a short distance, and always while she was looking out the windows or down at her feet. Perhaps he hoped she wouldn’t notice. Of course she noticed.

Only when the sun began to sink below the skyline did she realize how long the two of them had been talking. It would be dark soon, and her partner would be waiting for her. She was forced to bid a hasty retreat, but not before promising to meet him again the following weekend.

Every Saturday night before patrol, she paid a visit to the Agreste mansion. These visits were far shorter than she would have liked—only an hour or so—but they were absolutely, unequivocally the best part of her week.

It was not long before she heard Alya and Adrien chatting again. It was about her, of course. It surprised her for a moment. She thought it odd for Adrien to talk to Alya about something so personal; that is, until she saw how excited he was. The famously cool, composed Adrien Agreste was nearly tripping over his words as he recounted their time together last night. He needed to talk to someone, she supposed, and who better to listen to him go on about Ladybug than Alya Césaire, devoted administrator of the _Ladyblog_?

Alya, of course, was supremely envious.

She pulled Marinette into the seat next to her, quickly explaining what the two of them had been talking about before she stumbled in. Marinette certainly didn’t need to feign interest as she leaned over the table between them, listening intently.

“I need you to tell me everything,” Alya said. “And I mean _everything_!”

He didn’t.

Adrien answered her questions in good spirits. He provided more than enough information to satisfy her, though she insisted she be the first to know whenever Ladybug came to visit again. There were, however, a few small details missing from his story.

For example, the time Ladybug had taken his hands, hoping to comfort him after talking a bit too long about his father. He neglected to mention that lately, when she climbed in through his window, he caught her as she hopped to the floor, his hands lingering on her waist a moment too long. Not a word was said about how she, in a moment of courage, had called him handsome, and certainly not about the subsequent giggles. (His were embarrassed; hers were out of guilty amusement upon seeing Adrien Agreste turn beet red.)

Moreover, and perhaps most importantly, he never mentioned what happened last night. As she was preparing to leave through the window, he called after her, asking her to wait. Ladybug turned sharply around, surprised, and her eyes seemed to root him to the spot. Her attention flitted briefly to his throat as he swallowed, nervous. Finally he took another step toward her, surprising her again when he wriggled his quivering fingers between hers. All the lights of Paris glinted in his eyes as he looked down at her, the words on his tongue struggling to take shape.

He asked to kiss her goodnight. She, of course, said yes.

It was a soft, chaste kiss that was over far too quickly. Even so, the effect it had on her was like nothing she had ever experienced. Were it not for his hands in hers, she thought she may have fallen to her knees. She could tell from the look on his face that it had done the same to him.

She wished she could tell someone. She wished she could tell _everyone_. Tikki was always content to listen to her go on, but that alone was hardly enough to satisfy her. Who else could she tell? Chat Noir? Oh, poor Chat might be heartbroken.

Most of all, she wanted to tell Alya. Imagining the look on her face broadened Marinette’s knowing smile as the two of them walked side by side down the hall. Maybe some day, she thought. Some day—and maybe that day would come sooner rather than later—Alya would find out. She would find out about Ladybug and about Adrien; about all the things her horrible, traitorous best friend had been hiding from her all this time. Thinking about it now, with so many things to tell her, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

For now, though, she was content to look forward to next weekend.


End file.
